and desperate an
undertaking. If he had retained any doubts of the issue of the
meeting, they must have been removed when the preacher called on his
hearers to renounce all expectation which had hitherto been
entertained of safety to the nation, from the execution of the
ordinary laws of the land. This, he said, was at best but a carnal
seeking after earthly aid--a going down to Egypt for help, which the
jealousy of their Divine Leader would resent as a fleeing to another
rock, and a different banner, from that which was this day displayed
over them.--And here he solemnly swung the bannered lion over their
heads, as the only sign under which they ought to seek for life and
safety. He then proceeded to insist, that recourse to ordinary justice
was vain as well as sinful.

"The event of that day at Westminster," he said, "might teach them
that the man at Whitehall was even as the man his father;" and closed
a long tirade against the vices of the Court, with assurance "that
Tophet was ordained of old--for the King it was made hot."

As the preacher entered on a description of the approaching theocracy,
which he dared to prophesy, Bridgenorth, who appeared for a time to
have forgotten the presence of Julian, whilst with stern and fixed
attention he drunk in the words of the preacher, seemed suddenly to
collect himself, and, taking Julian by the hand, led him out of the
gallery, of which he carefully closed the door, into an apartment at
no great distance.

When they arrived there, he anticipated the expostulations of Julian,
by asking him, in a tone of severe triumph, whether these men he had
seen were likely to do their work negligently, or whether it would not
be perilous to attempt to force their way from a house, when all the
avenues were guarded by such as he had now seen--men of war from their
childhood upwards.

"In the name of Heaven," said Julian, without replying to
Bridgenorth's question, "for what desperate purpose have you assembled
so many desperate men? I am well aware that your sentiments of
religion are peculiar; but beware how you deceive yourself--No views
of religion can sanction rebellion and murder; and such are the
natural and necessary consequences of the doctrine we have just heard
poured into the ears of fanatical and violent enthusiasts."

"My son," said Bridgenorth calmly, "in the days of my non-age, I
thought as you do. I deemed it sufficient to pay my tithes of cummin
and aniseed--my poor petty moral observances of the old law; and I
thought I was heaping up precious things, when they were in value no
more than the husks of the swine-trough. Praised be Heaven, the scales
are fallen from mine eyes; and after forty years' wandering in the
desert of Sinai, I am at length arrived in the Land of Promise--My
corrupt human nature has left me--I have cast my slough, and can now
with some conscience put my hand to the plough, certain that there is
no weakness left in me where-through I may look back. The furrows," he
added, bending his brows, while a gloomy fire filled his large eyes,
"must be drawn long and deep, and watered by the blood of the mighty."

There was a change in Bridgenorth's tone and manner, when he used
these singular expressions, which convinced Julian that his mind,
which had wavered for so many years between his natural good sense and
the insane enthusiasm of the time, had finally given way to the
latter; and, sensible of the danger in which the unhappy man himself,
the innocent and beautiful Alice, and his own father, were likely to
be placed--to say nothing of the general risk of the community by a
sudden insurrection, he at the same time felt that there was no chance
of reasoning effectually with one, who would oppose spiritual
conviction to all arguments which reason could urge against his wild
schemes. To touch his feeling seemed a more probable resource; and
Julian therefore conjured Bridgenorth to think how much his daughter's
honour and safety were concerned in his abstaining from the dangerous
course which he meditated. "If you fall," he said, "must she not pass
under the power and guardianship of her uncle, whom you allow to have
shown himself capable of the grossest mistake in the choice of her
female protectress; and whom I believe, upon good grounds, to have
made that infamous choice with his eyes open?"

"Young man," answered Bridgenorth, "you make me feel like the poor
bird, around whose wing some wanton boy has fixed a line, to pull the
struggling wretch to earth at his pleasure. Know, since thou wilt play
this cruel part, and drag me down from higher contemplations, that she
with whom Alice is placed, and who hath in future full power to guide
her motions, and decide her fate, despite of Christian and every one
else, is--I will not tell thee who she is--Enough--no one--thou least
of all, needs to fear for her safety."

At this moment a side-door opened, and Christian himself came into the
apartment. He started and coloured when he saw Julian Peveril; then
turning to Bridgenorth with an assumed air of indifference, asked, "Is
Saul among the prophets?--Is a Peveril among the saints?"

"No, brother," replied Bridgenorth, "his time is not come more than
thine own--thou art too deep in the ambitious intrigues of manhood,
and he in the giddy passions of youth, to hear the still calm voice--
You will both hear it, as I trust and pray."

"Master Ganlesse, or Christian, or by whatever name you are called,"
said Julian, "by whatever reasons you guide yourself in this most
perilous matter, /you/ at least are not influenced by any idea of an
immediate divine command for commencing hostilities against the state.
Leaving, therefore, for the present, whatever subjects of discussion
may be between us, I implore you, as a man of shrewdness and sense, to
join with me in dissuading Master Bridgenorth from the fatal
enterprise which he now meditates."

"Young gentleman," said Christian, with great composure, "when we met
in the west, I was willing to have made a friend of you, but you
rejected the overture. You might, however, even then have seen enough
of me to be assured, that I am not likely to rush too rashly on any
desperate undertaking. As to this which lies before us, my brother
Bridgenorth brings to it the simplicity, though not the harmlessness
of the dove, and I the subtilty of the serpent. He hath the leading
of saints who are moved by the spirit; and I can add to their efforts
a powerful body, who have for their instigators the world, the devil,
and the flesh."

"And can you," said Julian, looking at Bridgenorth, "accede to such an
unworthy union?"

"I unite not with them," said Bridgenorth; "but I may not, without
guilt, reject the aid which Providence sends to assist His servants.
We are ourselves few, though determined--Those whose swords come to
help the cutting down of the harvest, must be welcome--When their work
is wrought, they will be converted or scattered.--Have you been at
York Place, brother, with that unstable epicure? We must have his last
resolution, and that within an hour."

Christian looked at Julian, as if his presence prevented him from
returning an answer; upon which Bridgenorth arose, and taking the
young man by the arm, led him out of the apartment, into that in which
they had left his father; assuring him by the way, that determined and
vigilant guards were placed in every different quarter by which escape
could be effected, and that he would do well to persuade his father to
remain a quiet prisoner for a few hours.

Julian returned him no answer, and Bridgenorth presently retired,
leaving him alone with his father and Hudson. To their questions he
could only briefly reply, that he feared they were trepanned, since
they were in the house with at least two hundred fanatics, completely
armed, and apparently prepared for desperate enterprise. Their own
want of arms precluded the possibility of open violence; and however
unpleasant it might be to remain in such a condition, it seemed
difficult, from the strength of the fastenings at doors and windows,
to attempt any secret escape without instantaneous detection.

The valiant dwarf alone nursed hopes, with which he in vain
endeavoured to inspire his companions in affliction. "The fair one,
whose eyes," he said, "were like the twin stars of Leda"--for the
little man was a great admirer of lofty language--"had not invited
him, the most devoted, and, it might be, not the least favoured of her
servants, into this place as a harbour, in order that he might therein
suffer shipwreck; and he generously assured his friends, that in his
safety they also should be safe."

Sir Geoffrey, little cheered by this intimation, expressed his despair
at not being able to get the length of Whitehall, where he trusted to
find as many jolly Cavaliers as would help him to stifle the whole
nest of wasps in their hive; while Julian was of opinion that the best
service he could now render Bridgenorth, would be timeously to
disclose his plot, and, if possible, to send him at the same time
warning to save his person.

But we must leave them to meditate over their plans at leisure; no one
of which, as they all depended on their previous escape from
confinement, seemed in any great chance of being executed.

CHAPTER XLIV

And some for safety took the dreadful leap;
Some for the voice of Heaven seem'd calling on them;
Some for advancement, or for lucre's sake--
I leap'd in frolic.
--THE DREAM.

After a private conversation with Bridgenorth, Christian hastened to
the Duke of Buckingham's hotel, taking at the same time such a route
as to avoid meeting with any acquaintance. He was ushered into the
apartment of the Duke, whom he found cracking and eating filberts,
with a flask of excellent white wine at his elbow. "Christian," said
his Grace, "come help me to laugh--I have bit Sir Charles Sedley--
flung him for a thousand, by the gods!"

"Serious?--why, I shall hardly be serious in my life again--ha, ha,
ha!--and for luck, it was no such thing--sheer wit, and excellent
contrivance; and but that I don't care to affront Fortune, like the
old Greek general, I might tell her to her face--In this thou hadst no
share. You have heard, Ned Christian, that Mother Cresswell is dead?"

"Yes, I did hear that the devil hath got his due," answered Christian.

"Well," said the Duke, "you are ungrateful; for I know you have been
obliged to her, as well as others. Before George, a most benevolent
and helpful old lady; and that she might not sleep in an unblest
grave, I betted--do you mark me--with Sedley, that I would write her
funeral sermon; that it should be every word in praise of her life and
conversation, that it should be all true, and yet that the diocesan
should be unable to lay his thumb on Quodling, my little chaplain, who
should preach it."

"I perfectly see the difficulty, my lord," said Christian, who well
knew that if he wished to secure attention from this volatile
nobleman, he must first suffer, nay, encourage him, to exhaust the
topic, whatever it might be, that had got temporary possession of his
pineal gland.

"Why," said the Duke, "I had caused my little Quodling to go through
his oration thus--'That whatever evil reports had passed current
during the lifetime of the worthy matron whom they had restored to
dust that day, malice herself could not deny that she was born well,
married well, lived well, and died well; since she was born in
Shadwell, married to Cresswell, lived in Camberwell, and died in
Bridewell.' Here ended the oration, and with it Sedley's ambitious
hopes of overreaching Buckingham--ha, ha, ha!--And now, Master
Christian, what are your commands for me to-day?"

"First, to thank your Grace for being so attentive as to send so
formidable a person as Colonel Blood, to wait upon your poor friend
and servant. Faith, he took such an interest in my leaving town, that
he wanted to compel me to do it at point of fox, so I was obliged to
spill a little of his malapert blood. Your Grace's swordsmen have had
ill luck of late; and it is hard, since you always choose the best
hands, and such scrupleless knaves too."

"Come now, Christian," said the Duke, "do not thus exult over me; a
great man, if I may so call myself, is never greater than amid
miscarriage. I only played this little trick on you, Christian, to
impress on you a wholesome idea of the interest I take in your
motions. The scoundrel's having dared to draw upon you, is a thing not
to be forgiven.--What! injure my old friend Christian?"

"And why not," said Christian coolly, "if your old friend was so
stubborn as not to go out of town, like a good boy, when your Grace
required him to do so, for the civil purpose of entertaining his niece
in his absence?"

"How--what!--how do you mean by /my/ entertaining your niece, Master
Christian?" said the Duke. "She was a personage far beyond my poor
attentions, being destined, if I recollect aright, to something like
royal favour."

"It was her fate, however, to be the guest of your Grace's convent for
a brace of days, or so. Marry, my lord, the father confessor was not
at home, and--for convents have been scaled of late--returned not till
the bird was flown."

"Christian, thou art an old reynard--I see there is no doubling with
thee. It was thou, then, that stole away my pretty prize, but left me
something so much prettier in my mind, that, had it not made itself
wings to fly away with, I would have placed it in a cage of gold.
Never be downcast, man; I forgive thee--I forgive thee."

"Your Grace is of a most merciful disposition, especially considering
it is I who have had the wrong; and sages have said, that he who doth
the injury is less apt to forgive than he who only sustains it."

"True, true, Christian," said the Duke, "which, as you say, is
something quite new, and places my clemency in a striking point of
view. Well, then, thou forgiven man, when shall I see my Mauritanian
Princess again?"

"Wherever I am certain that a quibble, and a carwhichit, for a play or
a sermon, will not banish her from your Grace's memory."

"Not all the wit of South, or of Etherege," said Buckingham hastily,
"to say nothing of my own, shall in future make me oblivious of what I
owe the Morisco Princess."

"Yet, to leave the fair lady out of thought for a little while--a very
little while," said Christian, "since I swear that in due time your
Grace shall see her, and know in her the most extraordinary woman that
the age has produced--to leave her, I say out